


It's Easier for You to Let Me Go

by thekingofcarrotflowers



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Feelings, Love Confessions, M/M, Magister Dorian Pavus, Relationship Discussions, Reunions, Spoilers, Trespassers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-18
Updated: 2015-10-18
Packaged: 2018-04-26 22:10:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5022388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekingofcarrotflowers/pseuds/thekingofcarrotflowers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[Trespasser Fic with Spoilers] After a year away in Tevinter, Dorian is glad to be returning to the Inquisition and the Iron Bull. But, there's a letter waiting for him upon his arrival at the Winter Palace that turns everything on its head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Easier for You to Let Me Go

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thepirateandhisswan](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=thepirateandhisswan).



> This was in response to this prompt: "what about the first time or possibly even when dorian returns from tevinter the first time, bull wants to talk about his feelings. (Trespasser inspired)" from [thepirateandhisswan](http://thepirateandhisswan.tumblr.com/)  
> A big thanks to [cyber-faierie](cyber-faierie.tumblr.com) & [Sarah](sarahwhat.tumblr.com) for their beta-ing!

_“I never wanna leave you but I can't make you bleed if I'm alone...”_  
  
The feeling welling up in Dorian’s chest was hard to put his finger on, exactly, never having felt quite like this before. There’d been a taste of it, after weeks apart from the Iron Bull during Corypheus’s reign, but this was entirely different. It was heavy weight on his chest, warm and expanding, making him feel giddy and jittery and anxious all at once at the thought of _seeing_ Bull again. There’d been letters and a few small packages during the last year, but it wasn’t enough. Dorian missed the feel of Bull under his fingers, was worried he forgot the topography of scars and muscle and fat, even though he’d tried desperately to sear them into memory before he left. He missed his laughter, bellowing and hearty in the tavern and on the battlefield, other times soft and fond in the bedroom or in Dorian’s ear. He missed how the Bull seemed to know him better than anyone else ever had - better than Felix, better than Maevaris, better than even the Inquisitor.

  
Being away from Bull felt like losing a limb, a phantom pain ghosting Dorian whenever they were apart. The loneliness and distance hit him sometimes in unexpected moments - when he woke in the dead of night and tried to reach for the warm body that should be next to him, after long days where he wanted nothing more than to collapse into strong, safe arms, or when it felt like the entire world was against him and he just needed the assurance he wasn’t alone. It left him winded and hurting, worried whether the Bull was safe in the sometimes lengthy gap between letters, hoping the Bull was happy.

  
As the days stretched on, the pain somehow had become more bearable. There was that steady throb beneath the surface, but in the chaos of organizing with Maevaris, of never getting a blasted moment to himself during his waking hours, the absence of Bull had gotten tolerable. He didn’t think of the Bull less often, or write to him less than a dozen times a week, or adore him any less, but it was an expected sort of hurt, and that made Dorian feel guilty and unworthy of Bull’s affections. He still missed him to his very core, but it was like when Felix passed. Excruciating pain of loss and bleakness fading into a something manageable, still there, still painful, but less raw, a hurt rubbed smooth by time and circumstance.

  
Now, they were to be reunited, and the surge of feelings coursing through Dorian was almost unbearable. There was relief, at his amatus safe and in his arms again. There was excitement, at all the things Bull had promised him upon his return, in and out of bed. There was even guilt, worry, that the time and distance may have changed what they had, that the pain feeling more tolerable meant that things between them wouldn’t be the same…

 

\---

  
  
The plan was for Dorian to arrive before the Inquisitor’s party, and Bull had made plans to meet Dorian before the rest of the group arrived so they could spend some much deserved time together sans interruptions. It was ideal for getting more than a few hours pressed together, getting time without Sera or Cole prodding around at his _feelings_. That giddy feeling was welling in his chest as the palace drew closer, a strange sort of comfort, reminding him of days spent at the Inquisitor’s side and nights spent in Bull’s bed. With it came the worry, that he would be too changed, that Bull and himself wouldn’t fit together like they used to.

  
There were three letters already waiting for him upon his arrival at the place. One was recognizably from Bull, Dorian having grown familiar with the brown envelopes he sent all his correspondence in, even when Bull never put any indication of who it was from on the envelope itself. Another was from Maevaris, an easy guess from the cerulean envelope and silver seal. The last was of deep red cardstock, sturdy and official-looking even without seeing the black wax seal with the Magisterium’s symbol on the back. He frowned at the letter, turning it over in his hand, assuming it had something to do with his role as Ambassador.

  
Shuffling the letters a little nervously, Dorian retired to his room, an attendant having already deposited his things there. Really, the letter from Maevaris was the most surprising, if he thought about it. He was expecting one from Bull, and it was no surprise the Imperium sent some sort of fancy documents bossing him around now that he had officially accepted the position. He’d readily accepted it as a way to travel south again, along with it being little more than a title and a chance for Tevinter to look good, aiding the Inquisition in the noble cause they hadn’t given two shits about when Corypheus was at large. He decided to open the Magisterium’s letter first, getting whatever tedium they had in store for him out of the way, and to save the best for last.

  
There was an rusty little letter opener on the desk, which he used which a practice flick of the wrist. The parcel was thick - someone must have written a few pages of instructions for him. He sighed dramatically, even though there was no audience, as he pulled out the pages. At a glance, he could see it was written in some flowery script, long and formal and probably terribly pompous. Another sigh, and he started to dig into the grit of it:

  
_‘On behalf of the Magisterium of Tevinter, and representing the members therein, I have the utmost honor in extending my congratulations to Magister Dorian Pavus—’_

  
_Magister_. Something welled up in Dorian’s chest, dark and foreboding and his mind kept getting caught on those words. Magister Dorian Pavus. Magister. Something’s wrong. Something—

  
Taking a deep breath, Dorian forced himself to read on. The words began to swim on the pages, his head frantically trying to make _sense_ of everything, the situation surreal. The warm weight on his chest that’d been sitting there at the thought of seeing his Bull again was replaced by a heavy burden, restricting and grim. He had been appointed to his father’s seat in the Magisterium, a copy of his father’s will attached. Dorian sat down heavily on the bed, reading and rereading the pages of parchment. It doesn’t _tell_ him anything, other than the fact that Dorian was now a Magister and that it was concurrent with his father’s death. He hadn’t realized Halward had kept him heir of House Pavus despite the fact that Dorian had seen him all of three times even while being in the same city for half of his stay in Tevinter.

  
Hands shaking, Dorian reached for Maevaris’s letter. Maybe there was something, some explanation for this mess…

  
_‘I hope this arrives before the official letter from the Magisterium…’_

  
Dorian laughed, bitterly. The letter was filled with apologies, talk of assassination, more apologies. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache building. What was supposed to be a chance to share some happiness with the Bull and the Inquisition was suddenly darked by _this_.

  
 There were no tears, just a steady tremor in his hand and a empty feeling in his chest. Wasn’t this what he wanted, for a chance to make a stand in the Imperium? But all he could think of was his father’s blood dripping down the steps of his childhood home, the servants trying to scrub the pale stone clean before visitors arrived, his mother drinking herself into yet another stupor instead of dealing with the realities of the world. Worst of all, there the fact that he would truly have to leave the south and the Inquisition and the _Bull_ behind if he accepted the position.

  
What he really needed was a strong drink.

 

\---

  
  
Dorian took Bull’s letter with him, slipped under his robes and against his chest. He hadn’t read it yet, had known that things might get darker before the dawn, as they said. The letter would be there then, some sort of comfort in the empty space between now and whenever the Chargers arrived.

  
There was a bar in the palace, off one of the ballrooms buzzing with people as the sun dipped low in the sky, red and gold light filling the ceiling-high windows. Dorian slunk over to it, and ordered a shot of their best whiskey and a Fereldan ale he couldn’t get farther north. The drinks were added to his tab, which Dorian would make sure the Magisterium paid at a later date for all the trouble they were causing him, before he headed to a secluded corner to drink. He should write Maevaris back, before she worried herself into a tizzy. She’d commented on how much Dorian had grown since they last met in person, somewhere in the hazy days of Minrathous slums, but still treated him like the boy she tried to take under her wing years ago.

  
Fuck, what a mess.

  
Dorian put his head in his hands, someone refilling his ale whenever it emptied. It felt oddly like home, more than Tevinter had. A rowdy crowd, though they were all very Orlesian and too polished to be the inhabitants of the Herald’s Rest, songs and jigs, the bitter taste of cheap ale on his tongue. His heart ached for the Bull to be next to him, and his heart ached for everything that was suddenly lost to him. He would surely take the seat in the senate, and there went his plans for spending days with the Bull, for planning some sort of life together as he played ambassador for Tevinter.

  
Any hope of amends or smoothing things between he and his father were gone as well, not that he’d really planned on doing as such. At least before there was some chance of reconciliation, or even polite tolerance of each other. The meetings between them had been awkward, somewhat tense, and brief, but there was always that strange sort of hope of proving himself to Halward that flickered in Dorian’s chest after he received a weak smile or a touch on the shoulder. It was gone, his life suddenly in an upheaval because of a _letter_. It didn’t feel real.

  
“Dorian?”

  
The voice, deep and rumbling and oh so welcome, startled Dorian from his daze. He jolted, looking for the source, knowing without seeing who it was. The distance had made him forget, a little, just how low and comforting Bull’s voice was, how the sound shot through him like a lightning burst. There he was, handsome and beaming at him, heads taller than anyone else in the tavern, and everything still felt like a dream.

  
“Bull,” Dorian answered, scrambling to his feet and spilling his ale. It was left forgotten as he quickly closed the distance, all but leaping into the Iron Bull’s arms. He was promptly lifted off the floor, Bull’s strong arms around his waist and back, tight enough that Dorian felt some of the air whoosh from his lungs. The Bull was beaming, wide and so very handsome, and Dorian couldn’t keep from pressing kisses to his cheeks, to his nose, to his lips, before pressing his face into the crook of Bull’s neck.

  
“Shit, Dorian, I missed you,” Bull breathed, grip still crushing, but Dorian felt safe. He made a pitiful noise, gratefully muffled by the press of his lips to Bull’s skin, “Kadan.”

  
The dam broke then, the tangle of emotions that’d been winding through Dorian’s head and chest overflowing. He let out a sob, one Bull was sure to hear but one hopefully drowned out to anyone else by the hum of the crowd around them. Desperate, clutching at Bull’s harness, tremors wracked his body as he thought of his father, dead, his seat in the Magisterium, impending, and his inevitable departure from the Bull once again, utterly heartbreaking. The Bull didn’t deserve this, didn’t deserve a part-time lover when he had so much care and love and warmth to give.

  
“I’ve got you, big guy,” Bull muttered, shifting him slightly so he could comfortably carry Dorian from the tavern, people glancing in their direction with mixtures of amusement and scandal, and towards the empty halls.

  
“I didn’t read your last letter,” wheezed Dorian, and Bull chuckled weakly.

  
“Don’t have to cry about it.”

  
Dorian answered with a wet laugh, grateful the Bull was treating him the same as always. That mixture of gentleness, and patience, and a dose of levity. It felt like so long since anyone took care of him like this, one of Bull’s great hands in his hair, another holding him firmly by the small of his back. Dorian wasn’t even sure when he’d wrapped his legs around Bull’s waist, was sure he was putting on a bit of a spectacle, but the Orlesians always did like a good scandal.  

  
With a steadying breath, Dorian leaned back once more to look down at Bull’s face. There was a new scar, just above his eyebrow, and more hair on his chin, probably from being on the road with the Chargers more often than being in the tavern of Skyhold. He cupped Bull’s face, looking at him with such affection as he traced lines, both familiar and new. Not much had changed in the year, and it was nice to have Bull, solid and familiar. Carefully, Bull reached up to smear away a smudge of kohl and a few remaining tears.

  
“Oh, I’ve missed you,” Dorian sighed, thumb tracing the edge of his eyepatch, the notches in his horns, “I suppose you can put me down now. I’m sure they’ll be speaking of this tomorrow.”

  
“Half of them are already too drunk to give two shits,” Bull shrugged, “Could carry you to our room.”

  
“Our room,” Dorian echoed, feeling a little like he might float away. The pain of earlier was drowned out by the feeling in his chest at having the Bull here, everything feeling distant and unimportant awash in Bull’s warmth.

  
Bull chuckled fondly, “Yeah, we get to share a little space again.” He began to set Dorian back on his feet, helping him smooth out the robes and his hair.

  
Dorian snorted, “It’s hardly a _little_ space. I made sure to get the biggest bed they had.”

  
“Yeah? All funded by the Magisterium?” Bull smirk was a little smug, but Dorian faltered slightly, fears and hurts surfacing again just at the mention of that place. The look quickly faded from Bull’s face, seeing something in Dorian’s eyes.

  
“Yes, it’s rather thrilling, sharing a bed with a Qunari on the Imperium’s coin,” Dorian said as flippantly as he could manage, but Bull was watching him with some concern. Dorian ignored it, taking one of his hands in his own and tugging him towards the stairs, “Come on, then. It’s been too long since I’ve had you in my bed. Where are your boys?”

  
“Thought you wouldn’t want them there for the reunion,” Bull shrugged slightly, and Dorian was grateful for that. It was one thing to be seen and judged a roomful of strangers he’d hopefully never have to interact with again , but he would have had to face the Chargers daily after that display. He was sure they wouldn’t care, that they would understand because they were his friends, but this made it something special just between the Bull and himself.

  
Dorian guided Bull up the grand staircase, draping Bull’s arm around his shoulders once they reached their landing. Bull drew him nearer, Dorian nuzzling into the warmth of Bull’s side.

  
“You okay, Dorian?”

  
Dorian nodded slightly, face pressed against Bull’s chest. He breathed in the scent, of musk and leather and earth, felt more at peace with the weight of Bull’s arm around him.

  
Inside their room, Dorian lit the fireplace ablaze as Bull settled down on the bed, taking everything in. He just had his maul and a single bag with him, nothing much. Dorian figured it held an extra set of pants and perhaps a dagger or two.

  
“You’re here quite early,” Dorian stated, once the fire was crackling.

  
“Yeah, rode ahead of the boys. The going is a lot quicker with just one and not much shit to carry.”

  
“I hope you haven’t killed that poor horse of yours,” Dorian frowned, turning away from the fire and towards Bull. His skin was gleaming in the dark, silver ranges of flesh, chest and stomach and arms looking metallic, and Dorian itched to touch him again. There was no hesitancy in that anymore, and even after the months and months apart, it felt easy to cross the room and press his hands firmly against the Bull’s bosom.

  
Bull chuckled, and Dorian’s heart felt full to burst for a moment, “Nah, horsemaster is probably spoiling her rotten on my orders right now.”

  
“I am glad you’re here,” Dorian stated, looking steadily into the Bull’s eye. It was bright and alive with colors, and Dorian took in the flecks of silver and black in the steel green eye. He trailed his hands up, across the harness that felt solid and familiar, across the Bull’s trunk of a neck, to his face. Carefully, brow furrowed in concentration, he explored the maps of his face, the jagged lines of scars, the strap of the eyepatch, the sensitive skin at the base of his horns. Bull made an appreciative, agreeable noise.

  
“Yeah, glad you’re back and in one piece,” Bull agreed, searching Dorian’s own silver eyes for something he wasn’t sure of just yet. Something had flashed there for a moment, hurt at Bull’s words when made to remember that he’d just been reunited with his lover and would have to leave him once more. Dorian let him search, wasn’t putting up walls to resist because he knew it would come out one way or another, but he didn’t much care for the idea of talking about the letter and his father’s death and the Magisterium when the Bull was finally here, in his bed, all his again.

  
“You’re probably tired from all that riding. Can I take all this off, like old times?” Dorian asked, an awful pang of nostalgia shooting through his chest. He wondered how many more times he might get to do this, undress the Bull and take care of him, spend hours appreciating the softness of his hips and stomach, enjoy the muscles rippling in his thighs when Bull fucked him long and hard, the sound of his voice saying all sorts of impossible things.

  
“Don’t get too sentimental on me. There’s a lot we can be doing now, instead of _thinking_ about old times. Maybe we could reenact the last time we were in Orlais together,” Bull smirked. The memory of spending at least two days in bed with wrists tied to the headboards or bent into all sorts of positions he’d achieved because of the flexibility that came with yoga stirred up, warmth pooling in his gut. Bull nodded towards his shoulder, Dorian beginning to work at the strap of the harness and let the leather and metal fall away with a thud.

  
Dorian’s hands moved up to the eye patch then, tracing the decorations carved upon it. It was the one he’d given Bull not long before the last battle, marking a year since they started the whatever they had. Elaborate, swirling patterns of sunflowers decorated the metal, matching the flora Bull painted on his pauldrons. He slipped the band from around Bull’s horn, set the patch on the bed next to him, and leaned forward to kiss the ugly knot of scars there.

  
It’d been a long time into their tumbles before Dorian had requested that Bull took it off during their stay in bed, weeks after Dorian had spent the night for the first time, and Bull had seemed a little apprehensive to comply at first. Dorian hadn’t made a big deal of it, had waited to trace the lines of scars until the third or fourth time after that, and Dorian was always grateful he got to see all of Bull, every inch.

  
Next, came the belt, cast off with less care than the eye patch. Bull’s eye trailed it, flickering between the harness and belt on the floor, to somewhere behind Dorian, and back to Dorian’ again. Then, Dorian was kneeling before him, working at the knee brace. It took him a few moments, but then Dorian fell into the old pattern of taking it off, unlatching this part here then there.

  
Finally, the pants came off, Bull’s gaze not leaving Dorian as he lifted his hips and let the other man pull them clean off in one yank. He chuckled and smiled softly at that, hand finding Dorian’s hair and messing up the locks even more. Dorian glanced up at Bull for permission, hands glowing a pale orange, and the Bull nodded. A groan escaped Bull’s lips when Dorian began to work at the knee, which was stiff and slightly swollen, and Dorian wondered if he was taking proper care of himself or if anyone noticed when Bull was having a particularly bad day by the crease of agitation he got just _there_ on his forehead.

  
After Dorian worked at the old ache for a long time, he found Bull had grown half-hard at the attention. He smiled up at Bull, knowing he was in a rather compromising position like this, and Bull smiled back. It’d been so long since he was able to touch Bull, and he was having the same sort of reaction, a warm feeling of arousal and love and longing, more than just physical need but needing _everything_ Bull and wanting to give everything in return. The feeling flickered as Dorian worried he wouldn’t get the chance much longer, that it was unfair of him to need Bull that badly when they would be a world apart.

  
“C’mere,” Bull finally said, hand moving under Dorian’s armpits to help pull him up into his lap. Dorian settled there, still-clothed, but able to feel the warmth that Bull radiated through the leather and silk. Their lips met, warm and deep, nothing hurried or frantic because right now, it felt as if they had all the time in world. It didn’t matter that the voice in the back of Dorian’s head was telling him it was going to end, to just make it as easy on Bull as possible, that Bull wouldn’t be bled by Tevinter later if Dorian ended this now. But, in this moment, he could give his all to Bull, even if tomorrow he had to start thinking of himself as Magister Pavus, not some wayward Pariah runaway. Dorian wasn’t sure how long they kissed when Bull drew away, leaving Dorian light-headed, running a tongue over his already swollen lips.

  
“You got some other letters?” Bull said, glancing towards the desk. Dorian should have known better than to hope the Bull would overlook something, but he’d probably assessed the entire room in a span of a minute upon entry.

  
Dorian huffed, shifting slightly to press more firmly against Bull, “You have a lap full of me and you’re worried about my correspondence from home?”  
“Should I be worried about it?”

  
Dorian’s eyes went big for a breath, surprised. Quickly, he looked away, worrying at his lip.

  
“Kadan,” Bull said gently, raising a finger to Dorian’s chin, “Talk to me.”

  
Dorian pushed away from Bull, heading towards the desk to snatch up both letters. He shoved them at Bull.

  
“Read them yourself,” Dorian said curtly, sitting down next to Bull instead. Bull gave him a glance, before unfolding the letters and squinting at them in the dim light of the room. Bull sucked in a sharp breath when he made out the words, gave shape to them and all they meant.

  
“Magister Dorian Pavus, huh?”

  
“Seems so.”

  
Bull carefully eased his arm around Dorian, not pulling him in but still wrapping him up, “I know things weren’t good with your dad, but I am sorry.”

  
“I know. I,” Dorian sighed, leaning into Bull, “I suppose I regret not getting to say goodbye. I saw him all of three times while I was in Tevinter.”

  
“Yeah, it’s hard to not get that closure.”

  
“I suppose you know better than most.”

  
Bull had cared about his Tama as much as Dorian cared about his parents, and Dorian knew he hadn’t seen her in years before the Inquisition. There could be no connect between them, not ever again, if Bull wanted to keep her safe. Dorian felt a knot in his throat at that, knowing that’s what he thought would be best for him and Bull at this point. If he was Magister, he wasn’t going to sit idly by and let things happen, he was going to ruffle more than a few feathers. That’d mean quite a lot of enemies with quite a lot of power, and they’d look for any way to hurt him. He could stomach the idea of his own assassination, but the idea of someone harming the Bull —

  
“You’ll have to go back north again, after all this,” Bull murmured, staring steadily at Dorian. The mage nodded slightly, unable to look back up at Bull, focusing on the hands in his lap, “Let me go with you, this time.”

  
Dorian sucked in a breath, shooting a fierce glare at Bull, “No.”

  
“I’m sure you could use a bit of muscle,” Bull answered, flexing minutely. Dorian fondly rolled his eyes, but Bull’s humor didn’t alleviate any of the tightness in his chest about the situation.

  
“Now that I have the House of Pavus’ funds, I’m sure I can hire the best men Tevinter has to offer,” Dorian answered, and Bull scoffed.

  
“Won’t be as trustworthy as me. Or as talented.”

  
“No, of course not. No one is as talented as the great Iron Bull,” Dorian answered, voice going somewhat sharp and sarcastic. They’d talked about this before, Bull wanting to travel north with Dorian to start plans for the uprising with Maevaris. It was a sort of fleeting conversation, Dorian passionately against the idea, and Bull had folded rather easily. But then, it had only been a probably temporary thing, or at least not a forever thing. Taking the seat in the Magisterium was quite possibly a forever thing.

  
“No, no, this is ridiculous. We aren’t even having this conversation. The answer is no,” Dorian said firmly, standing up and snatching the letters from the bed. He stomped across the room, throwing them into a drawer and slamming it shut, catching the tips a few fingers in it. It stung distantly, but was drowned out by the thundering in his head, in his chest.

  
“Dorian. Kadan -”

  
“Stop, stop. _Katoh_.”

  
Dorian was gripping the desk, fingers gone white-knuckled as he shook with grief and rage. Everything was crashing down around him. The bed groaned behind him, and he knew Bull was moving to stand. The floorboards creaked as well, Bull moving so they would, so Dorian could track his progress and move away if he wanted to. Dorian didn’t, just stood there, gripping the desk like a lifeline. Bull’s hand slid onto his hip, grip lose and gentle for now.

  
“This isn’t a topic for discussion,” Dorian hissed through clenched teeth, squeezing his eyes closed. He could imagine all the things they would do to Bull, all the way things could go wrong. He would never be safe, a target heads and shoulders above all the others. Dorian would do anything, _anything_ , to keep the Bull safe, even if that meant having to leave him behind.

  
“Well, then,” Bull said slowly, voice low and soothing, “I want to talk about my feelings, Dorian.”

  
Dorian laughed, then, a started and bewildered sort of thing. His death hold on the wood finally relaxed as he looked over his shoulder at the Bull, now close enough to feel warm breath on his neck, “What?”

  
Bull shrugged slightly, “Been meaning to, really. You being gone really made me realize some things. I’ve never been clear enough about how I feel.”

  
Dorian rolled his eyes slightly. Bull hadn’t needed to use the words to make Dorian _know_ , know that he was loved and needed and wanted. He could do it with a kiss, deep and enveloping, unlike the hurried ones Dorian had grown accustomed to from his past. He could do it with a look from across the tavern, warm and fond, a smile pulling at his lips as he watched Dorian. He could do it with a touch, taking his time to take Dorian apart and find all the right aways to put him back together. He called him Kadan, first in the heat of one of their romps, and later in the tavern, on the battlefield, in front of everyone. Dorian knew what that meant, and it meant everything to Dorian to be the Bull’s heart.

  
“I mean it, Dorian,” Bull stated firmly, without the shallow humor he’d been using earlier to make the situation more bearable.

  
Slowly, Dorian turned in Bull’s grip, his back now against the desk. Bull didn’t crowd closer, didn’t make this into anything sexual like Dorian was almost expecting. It was intimate, sure, but in a way Dorian had only ever experienced with the Bull. His breath caught in his throat, his eyes going slightly wide at the look of longing and love and reverence on the Bull’s face.

  
“Bull,” Dorian murmured, reaching up to place one hand firmly against Bull’s chest. Bull raised the hand not still on Dorian’s hip to over Dorian’s digits, his mangled gray hand covering all of Dorian’s own.

  
“A year felt like a fuckin’ long time with you gone, Dorian,” Bull said softly, looking somewhat pained, “Tevinter doesn’t deserve you, and I can’t stop worrying that one of these times, your brilliant plan will fall through and I won’t be able to do anything to keep you safe. Nothing makes me happier than waking up with you still in my bed, or when you let your guard down a little and sit in my lap in the middle of the tavern, or, fuck, when you _smile_.”

  
“Bull,” Dorian said again, shakier than the last time.

  
“Just let me say this, huh?” Bull said, his own voice less steady, “I can’t bear the thought of losing you, Dorian. I know it’s going to be rough, in Tevinter. You’re doing amazing things, things no one else is brave enough to do, and that’s great. It is, I just …” Bull huffed, wrangling with his throat to keep his words even, “I know you need to do it. I know. It’s just that I love you, Dorian. I fuckin’ love you and letting you get on that ship back to Tevinter was the hardest thing I’ve had to do. Even the Storm Coast, shit, I knew then, deep down that I wasn’t part of the Qun anymore. But with this, I don’t know if I’ll get to see you again or if they’ll hurt you or —”

  
Bull’s voice finally cracked, a weak warble rising up. Tears sprang into Dorian’s eyes immediately, and he reached up desperately to hold Bull’s face between his hands, dragging him down to pepper kisses against his tear-streaked cheeks.

  
“Bull, oh, Bull,” Dorian murmured, slipping into Tevene and garbled Common, knowing that any reassurances of survival or safety he could give would only be a lie. Bull threw his arms around Dorian, holding on tightly like Dorian might slip away, “I’m yours, Bull. I’m always yours.”

  
That was one thing Dorian _could_ promise, because he knew it’d always be true. Nothing and no one could take that away from Dorian, whether another ancient Magister ripped another hole in the sky or the Venatori followed through with their threats at his life, he would always be Bull’s. He would stay, if Bull asked him, but he knew Bull wouldn’t. He’d let him go, support him in the ways he could — sending letters and recounts of the Chargers going-ons, gifts that Dorian only dared open in private, just in case, and keep his ears and eye open in the south in case of any rumors that could lead to danger.

  
“I love you, Bull,” Dorian murmured into the crook of Bull’s neck, and the Bull’s breath hitched.

  
They tumbled into bed together, Dorian finally pulling off his robes, needing to be as close to Bull as possible. There were still things to sort out, details and logistics of how this could work with so much space between them, but it felt more doable now after confessions were made. It might be more difficult having heard the words, leaving Bull behind after the admission of _feelings_ , but it was a reassurance to know he wasn’t going to _lose_ the Bull after this upheaval. But right now, they needed this, needed to be tangled up in each other and would tackle whatever problems arose in the days to come.

  
Their tender kisses delved into hands roaming across skin, Bull sliding gently into Dorian, rocking together, unhurried, needing it to last. While there was tonight, there was no telling how many _more_ nights like this they would get in the future, and Dorian needed as much of the Bull as possible. He mumbled I love yous into Bull’s skin, words that Bull echoed into Dorian’s hair, against his cheek. After, they still remained wrapped up in each other, limbs tangled, touching at every point possible. Bull stretched out over Dorian, face pressed into his chest, his weight steady and reassuring. Whatever happened, as difficult and impossible as it might be some days, they’d make it through this.

  
  
“ _You put your arms around me and I'm home.”_

**Author's Note:**

> Shoutout to [Jasper](http://justjasper.tumblr.com/)for the idea of including a quote at the beginning and end. These quotes and the title are from the song "Arms" by Christina Perri.


End file.
